


How Not to Welcome Your King (Probably)

by wickedorin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Awkwardness, Filthy thoughts, Gen, quite a greeting after ten years, that gets a tag too, thirst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 05:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17115002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedorin/pseuds/wickedorin
Summary: Written for my "Fuck SESTA/FOSTA" drabble drive. Request: "What really happened in the truck on the way back to Hammerhead."





	How Not to Welcome Your King (Probably)

**Author's Note:**

> A prime example of why no one should ever talk to or encourage me in any way. Ever. …But I guess I am half responsible for this.

He could.  Not.  _Believe_.  That Noctis was there.  _Right there_.  Right there _in his truck, sitting next to him_.  After so long, after so many years of waiting and hoping he’d return.

But what Talcott could _really_ not believe, was how _unimaginably attractive_ the king had become.  Yeah he’d been hot before the darkness descended, a far cry before Talcott had developed into himself and found his own preferences.  Realized that his admiration for the kind, soft-spoken prince had bloomed into a full-grown crush in his absence, and then some.  (He was still a little ashamed of half-lying to Prompto about wanting a picture of the prince to keep in his room, but nevermind.)  But upon his return, scruff and all, Noctis was _really scorching hot_ and all of the fantasies the younger man had been a little embarrassed about having were crashing into the back of his mind ( _and lower_ ), begging him not to say anything.

Well.  Except that they were kind of… begging him _to_ say something.  A lot of things.  Or maybe not _speak_ at all.

Talcott shifted in his seat.  It wouldn’t exactly be long before they arrived at Hammerhead.  He had a limited amount of time, and may not get another chance alone with Noctis.  Still, he did his duty, informing his king of what had happened, calling Ignis.  The things he needed to do for the rest of the world.

That left less time.  A little, still, but _so_ little, and his thoughts spun in a whirl of uncertainty.  _Okay, Talcott, you can do this!  Should I just… stop the truck and suck his dick?  Should I ask first?  It’s polite to ask, right?  But what if it’s awkward and I make him uncomfortable?  Should I ask him to drive so I can suck his dick on the way?_

It shouldn’t have been so difficult.  He could feel his hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel, and sooner or later Noctis was going to notice even if he did look half-starved and (perhaps ironically) fully sleep-deprived.  _Come on, Talcott, you’ve only been fantasizing about this since you were old enough to know what a blow job was and somehow he’s gotten even hotter than you remember.  You can do this!  Seize life!  Welcome your king!_

Coming around one of the last long bends before the lights would become clear in the distance, Talcott finally decided it was now or never.  Gathering all of his courage, every ounce of his resolve remembering and being very _proud_ of everything he’d survived just to aid Ignis’ quest for knowledge, he took a deep breath, cleared his mind, and let the words come on their own: “I suck cock now.“

There was a very long, very still,very _quiet_ moment between them when Talcott felt the temperature of his skin rising with his blush.  Noctis simply… continued to stare straight ahead with ever so slightly wider eyes, unmoving, trying to process–  Everything.

At last, the king gave a tentative glance, not quite breaking out of the awkwardness.  But he did _try_ , recognizing the tumble of words as unfortunately a little relatable.  “That’s… great.”  He croaked.  _Trying.  Trying so hard_.  “Your… your grandfather would be proud.”  Noctis then very slowly placed his hand over his own mouth as if to prevent anything even _more_ horrifically terrible from leaving his lips.

When they arrived at Hammerhead, both pale and quiet, the Crownsguard doted on Noctis, sweeping him away for a meal and to fill him in on what he’d been missing.  Perhaps… perhaps in another way, as well.

Cindy, whether by intuition or by direct knowledge of some sort, passed one of the last beers they had on hand to Talcott, slung an arm around his shoulders, and didn’t comment about the long, excruciated sigh he let out when he accepted the can.


End file.
